Gonna Party Like it’s !

What is it about New Year's that leaves us weeping over the 'Year in Review' issue of People Magazine we hold in one hand while simultaneously jotting down incredibly optimistic goals for the upcoming year on a notepad in the other? (Or is that just me?)

 

It’s an annual thing for me, this nostalgia and optimism.  I always think it’s gonna’ be great.  I always think I’m going to joyfully ring in midnight and I’m going to march forward creating a well-rounded, self-actualized, perfected version of me.

The reality, however, tends to find me on New Year’s Eve nursing a cocktail and a bruised psyche.  The reality generally finds me all alone as the clock strikes midnight, watching the ball drop and the folks in New York losing their collective minds on time delay, and lovers passionately ringing in the New Year. 

How I get the idea of how great this New Year’s Eve is going to be, I’ll never know.  In all my years I think I’ve had two happy and up-to-expectation experiences on this blurry night.  One was with an ex-then-current boyfriend on a river boat when I hadn’t really broken up with the current-soon-to-be-ex boyfriend back at home.  It was a perfect night despite my conscience nagging at me like Jiminy freaking Cricket the whole time.  The other was a party we hosted up in Palmdale that was planned out to the nines and, even to my party planning standards, was simply the best New Year’s party ever.  Outside of those two instances, though, I can share a litany of pathetic stories of kisses that didn’t happen, and “Happy New Year"s that didn’t get shouted joyfully into the rafters, and 2:00 a.m. runs to rescue drunken friends from the side of the road (you know who you are).

They weren’t ALL bad, mind you.  Over the years Cheyanne and I came up with a tradition to bring in the night together switching between Dick Clark and MTV in our warm, safe home.  Those were fun, silly nights but the first year I broke that tradition began the Curse of the Really Bad New Year’s Eves.  Since then, they have consistently been solo and somewhat sad.  The worst part - always - is having no one to kiss as that stupid disco ball slips down its stripper pole.

One time, in the past 6 years, my wee one actually woke up right at midnight.  I was just about to go off the edge in my misery when she stirred in her sleep.  Funny enough I was writing a journal entry at that exact moment.  Here’s the excerpt from that entry: "Dia woke up – 1 minute to midnight.  I was going to write a 5 year goal and a one year goal, and a ton of New Year’s resolutions, but I think I’ll just snuggle with her and go to bed.  It was nice to give someone a kiss at midnight.  She is … she is what’s so right about everything right now."  She gave me perspective that night and since then I haven’t had such disappointing Eves.  Of course, that was just 2 years ago, so I’ve only tested that out once so far…

Besides the failed celebrations, I can’t forget the failed resolutions.  Every year you can find me right here resolutioning and goaling and planning for the coming year’s New and Improved Best Katie Ever to be exhibited at this year’s Human Show.  (I kind of wish they really had those.  You know – like car shows?  “Here we have the 2013 Katie, a more roomy model than previous years…”)  

Already this year is proving to be no different as I’m struggling to focus on my work (and look – I’m writing this instead) and have a notepad next to me to jot down ideas for what I really want me to do this year: Practice piano, read more, work out more regularly, meditate and manage my stress better.  I have a ton of wishes on what I want to be when I grow up too, but I don’t even want to mention that 5 year goal or even a 1 year goal.  How exactly does one find Prince Charming (no – seriously – the one from "Enchanted"), make a gazillion dollars and become a best-selling author without leaving home? So I’ll concentrate on the more doable things. Check in with me on January 3^rd and see how that’s working out for me…

So ... back to tonight:  Yeah, it’s gonna’ be great.  But this year?  It seriously is going to be great.  Know why?  Because one thing I DID do in 2012 was figure out how to love the ordinary.  I learned that to be truly happy a spectacular fairy-tale world isn’t necessary, a brilliant career isn’t necessary, an exciting adventure isn’t necessary.  I have a blessed ordinary life and that alone, is more than so many.  So tonight I’ll have a sparkling glass of something, find an east coast streaming of that blasted ball and its far more blasted audience, have 12 grapes as the clock strikes midnight ET and give my skinny little girl a big fat kiss.  Then I’ll tuck her in, meditate, practice some piano, do 20 minutes on the rowing machine and then 50 sit ups, 20 push ups and finish up with 3 chapters out of one of the books on my bedstand.  I might even be asleep before midnight our time.

Or not.  I might just get drunk.

Happy 2013 everybody!